


Nocturnal Me

by casstayinmyass



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Dracopia, Dubious Consent, Frottage, Grinding, Horror, Kissing, Mild Smut, Neck Kissing, Post-Canon, Secrets, Seduction, Sexual Content, Supernatural Elements, Vampire Turning, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:09:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23611336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: You realize under terrifying circumstances that there is a scourge in the guise of sanctity at the Ministry. A well-kept secret is brought out in moonlight and close proximity.
Relationships: Cardinal Copia/Reader, Cardinal Copia/Sister(s) of Sin, Papa Emeritus IV/Reader, Papa Emeritus IV/Sister(s) of Sin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Nocturnal Me

**Author's Note:**

> Vampire Popia! Enjoy.

Your feet hit the ground as you run down the halls of the ministry. Moonlight pours in through the stained glass window, a sight you’re usually in awe of. Tonight, you’re only afraid.

There had been a series of murders at the ministry this past week. Not murders. Mutilations. Someone had been attacking the Siblings of Sin, leaving their pale corpses with blood running down their collarbones from their neck.

The Sisters who share your living space have been gossiping like mad. All this had started when the Cardinal had ascended to Papa at the last ritual, so it had to be some jealous subordinate, trying to make a statement, or some crazed disciple, desperate for the attention of their newest Papa. It was anybody’s guess. With Nihil dead and Sister Imperator running damage control over the Sisters who had not yet fallen victim to the killer in their midst, it would be a long time before anyone was put on the job of actually finding the culprit and stopping them.

That sent chills through you, and you pull your cloak tighter to you. You had been tending to some duties you hadn’t finished during the daylight hours, lighting black candles in the chapel, dusting off the Baphoment statue at the front of the alter. That’s when you’d heard them.

Footsteps.

Someone had been watching you from the shadows, the darkness just beyond where you could see in the dimly lit chapel. You had neglected the rest of your duties and left to hurry back to your bedroom, but the footsteps had followed, getting closer and closer until you were sure the assailant would pounce at any moment.

You trip on the cobblestone, cutting your arm a little. You grimace at the dripping blood, and rip your headdress off to wrap around it. You can make up some sexual excuse as to why it’s bloody tomorrow morning... if you survive that long. You take cover and calm yourself behind a pillar, breathing heavy. Looking around, you see that there’s nobody behind, or around you.

“Silly,” you murmur to yourself, “You probably just heard the bats outside in the crypts.”

A hand closes over your mouth. You scream against it, but it tightens, then lets go.

“Shh, shh shh! It’s me!” someone hisses. You whip around to see the Papa himself. You blink, backing up against the pillar.

“P-Papa?”

“Yes,” he nods, “It’s me.”

He looks different in this light... his gaze is haunting.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, swallowing in relief. “I thought you were...” You trail off as you notice the glint of something in his mouth.

“What is it?” he asks in a soft voice. Your brows furrow.

“Your... your teeth.”

He looks to you, then starts to smile, bearing two sharp incisors on either side of his mouth. Fangs.

“It’s you,” you breathe, backing away, “You’re the killer.”

“Ah,” he snatches your wrist before you can keep running, and pulls you back to him, “We can’t have you running off, Sister.”

“Please,” you say, realizing all you can do now is bargain. The Cardinal—or the Papa—was a reasonable man, wasn’t he? “Please, don’t kill me. Please. I won’t tell anyone. You can let me go.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you go, sweet ghuleh.” He puts a gloved finger up. “Abup! No tears. Please, I beg you. I hate to see you weep.” He brushes a tear trickling down off your cheek. Despite the fear pumping through you, there’s something about his presence that’s alluring... arousing. Even in death, your body betrays you.

“Why?” you whisper, trembling. He smoothes a hand down your arm, and comes to remove the cloth from your bleeding arm. His white eye seems to glow more intensely within the frightening skull paint, but he keeps his thirst at bay for the moment.

“I was inflicted during the days of the Plague. It was more common back then than history has reported, a bi-product of the horrors that came from the disease which soon became an escape.”

“And all this time...?”

“I have survived thousands of years on medical reserves, goats if I am terribly thirsty. But it’s been miserable. All I wanted was to become Papa...” He strokes your cheek, leaning in close so you could feel his icy breath on your neck, “So that I could at last have the cream of the crop to myself, to satiate an eternal lifetime of starvation.” You whimper as you feel his fangs graze your skin.

“S-so... you waited until you became Papa... so you could kill anyone you want to taste, with no repercussions?”

“Precisely, my dove.” He moans against your neck. “And you’ve always smelled the sweetest.” You recall all the times the man before you had encountered you in the halls, how his gaze had lingered a little too long. You shudder. His fangs grow, and you struggle, trying to run. He holds you firmly.

“Please. Don’t run. It only makes me...” he sighs, “Want you more.” His otherworldly pheromones are beginning to get to you. You can almost feel yourself leaning into him, wanting him to do it. Warm desire floods your stomach, as you take him by his robes, dragging him closer, burying your fingers beneath his clothes to feel no heartbeat. He entwines his fingers in your hair, tilts your neck... and pauses. He pulls the tips of his fangs from your skin, and holds a finger up.

“Okay, idea.” You raise an eyebrow at the switch in his voice, unsure of how a centuries old vampire could still come across as the same awkward man you had seen take the clergy’s band to new heights these past few years. He puts his hands on his hips. “Hmm. Yes. That’s a good idea.”

“What is this good idea, pray tell Papa?” you sigh. He opens his arms.

“I simply turn you too. Eh?!”

You frown. “How is that possible?”

“I just drink a _little_ bit. Like an appetizer. Not enough to fucking obliterate you, but enough so that my essence will enter your bloodstream, essentially kill you, then bring you back to life.”

You bite your lip. “That sounds horrible.”

“It very much is!” he smiles, clasping his hands together. You look at him, that same feeling seducing you to accept. His gloved hand is outstretched... he wants to make sure you want this. Well, it’s not much of a choice. Death, or vampirism. “Think of it,” he whispers, pulling you to him as you gasp, “We can feed on whomever we please. The ministry is ours. The world is ours, mi amore.”

You sigh, letting the moonlight wash over you. “Why me?”

He presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “Because every Papa has his favourite.” He raises an imploring eyebrow. “Join me in life eternal, Sister.” You bring your lips to his in a bruising, heated kiss, and his hand slides down between your legs, cupping you and slowly rubbing. “Allow me to take the edge off.”

“Oh,” you breathe, grinding against his hand. He kisses you again, sharp teeth drawing beads of blood along your lip. He licks it up, moaning, and as he works you toward your peak, you feel for his bulge. The noises the two of you are making are not unheard of within these walls, but this was a new level of unholy. You wouldn’t just be damned—you would be cursed. Your mouth opens in a gasp as he rubs you just right, sending you rocking against his talented fingers. He gives a low grunt as he feels you soak his gloves, and the sensation of that along with the trace of your blood on his tongue makes him crumble too.

You open your eyes to see his one green eye turning a ghastly yellow. His lips slide down to your neck as you expose it. "Do it. Before I change my mind."

He brushes your hair from your neck, and traces a finger down the line of where he knows your vein runs. You shiver, and he kisses you softly on the spot, before you start to feel his teeth scrape.

You strain your neck even longer, letting your eyes flutter shut, and he pierces your skin with his long fangs, infecting your bloodstream. An erotic feeling washes over you, like the orgasm you had just experienced stratified by tenfold. As quickly as it came, the bliss is gone. A black cloud closes in on your vision, and you drop to the ground, head lolling around. It feels like madness, a thick fog of feverish insanity taking over your mind as you roll about slowly and moan. Copia kneels down beside your rocking body, holding you gently still, and lifts a small vial of red to your lips, urging you to drink. Some trails down your lips, but the rest travels down your throat... and the fog is cleared. Your eyes open wide.

“Papa.”

He catches you in his arms as you pass out, and carries you toward his quarters. Looking around, he made sure no errant ghouls or eavesdropping Siblings of Sin had heard or seen anything.

And with you, the vampire disappears without a trace into the shadows once more.


End file.
